


Practice

by mystiri1



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Community: ff_exchange, F/M, First Crush, First Kiss, Kissing Battle, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-01
Updated: 2012-09-01
Packaged: 2017-11-13 07:37:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/501052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mystiri1/pseuds/mystiri1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aerith has never been one to shrink from anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Practice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deadcellredux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadcellredux/gifts).



He scared her, at first.  
  
She's not stupid: she knows what Turks are, what they do. What threat they pose to someone with her secrets. And Tseng has a way of watching her that makes her think she has no secrets left. He knows - she _knows_ that he knows - and every time he turns up at the church, or on her doorstep, it's a reminder of the danger she is in, constantly, living in Midgar. Because one day that threat will become reality.  
  
But she's never been one to shrink from anything, and he's always so... _polite_. He asks after her mother (after the third time she decided it wasn't some subtle threat), asks questions about her garden, even carries things for her. She figured out before long that he also chose the other Turks who watched her - including Reno, who is obnoxious and charmingly outrageous by turns, but always entertaining. It was Reno who taught her the basics of the staff and self-defense; she is certain neither of them will ever admit that was an order that originated with Tseng.  
  
His presence may be a constant, unspoken threat, but at some point, Aerith stopped thinking of Tseng that way. He's quiet, dangerous, polite... and _hers_.  
  
She likes being just a little outrageous when he's around, wonders if Reno has ever succeeded in truly ruffling Tseng's calm surface. She hopes not; that's a privilege she wants to reserve for herself. She wants to see him completely undone, and on her less generous days is not particular how: shocked, frantic, angry. But those days are rare, and one of the things she can't help but notice is that he is so very self-contained. He doesn't speak of friends or family, never mentions a home of his own. Aerith wonders what it would take to make him truly happy, so much so that he cannot hide it behind a polite mask, and as she grows a little bit older, a little bit more aware... she knows she wants it to be her.  
  
Smiling, his hair just a little mussed, tie not quite straight - these images, and what it would take to get there, become the subject of her teenage fantasies. She lives in the slums, and has witnessed enough encounters to know rather more than her mother's awkward talk had offered, so that these fantasies grow quite detailed. They are revised and edited, sometimes glossed with pretty words and gestures that Aerith doesn't quite believe in herself, and sometimes so raw and basic they leave her flushed and breathless. And with the passing of her sixteenth birthday, Aerith becomes impatient.  
  
They're walking back to her house when she decides to make her move. She has a basket of flowers over one arm; Tseng is carrying an armful of tools, unconcerned about the smudges of dirt they are leaving on his suit. She is chattering away, her mind not really on the conversation as she flits from subject to subject. Tseng is as politely attentive as ever.  
  
They reach the gate, and Aerith is still not sure how to turn a decision into action. She bites her lip, then waves a hand at a nearby wheelbarrow. "Just put the tools in there."  
  
She unlocks the door, slips the basket onto the table just inside, and hesitates on the threshold. Her mother won't be back for hours yet. Time enough for many things. She could invite him in and-  
  
Aerith turns. Tseng is waiting patiently: she knows from previous experience that he won't leave until she is safely inside. She takes two steps towards him, her heart racing, and rises up on her toes a little.  
  
His skin is smooth and warm under her lips, and when she pulls away, she thinks his eyes have widened just a fraction in surprise.  
  
She flushes, says a hurried goodbye, and all but runs inside.  
  
Although he is familiar, Tseng is still just a little bit intimidating. She'll have to work up to the things she imagines when she's by herself. Slowly.  
  
But, Aerith tells herself, caught somewhere between giddiness and embarrassment, a kiss on the cheek is still a good start.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Tseng/Aerith, never on the mouth,_ for deadcellredux's prompt at the ff_exchange Kissing Battle.


End file.
